June 8, 2010

I’m not going to write much now. The past days have been filled with mostly school. But, instead of writing about the Reconstruction following the Civil War, I’m going to write about rainy mornings.

There is something about a rainy morning. The wind and the raindrops are enough to keep you in your bed. Then you do pull yourself up, and slowly munch your warm toast, knowing that about half an hour of chores wait for you outside.

The chores follow, and they really aren’t that bad . . . though it is the one morning, of all mornings, that a hen escapes and has to be chased through the very wet woods.

Once back inside though, listening to the wind shaking raindrops off tree leaves, I want to find a book, or write a book. It helps that it is summer. There are lots of warm days to come, and this rain is making the garden grow . . .